POV Goblet of Fire
by Wiffyboy2003
Summary: The first part in a three series. The stories of Harry Potter GoF HBP, but told through the perspective's of many other characters.
1. Summer of Varying News

**P.O.V.**

**Goblet of Fire**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I would have said so. So since I am not, I won't.

**Summary:** The story of Harry Potter from GoF through HBP told from other characters perspectives. I will go through many characters, some I will stay with more than others, for obvious reasons. Each chapter will, most of the time, be seen by only one character, but their will be chapters where their will be multiple perspectives, seeing the same situation and having different reactions, but those will be occasions of massive importance to the series.

Most of the time I will stay with good guys, but occasionally I slip to the dark side of the Wizarding World.

All parings are as they are in the books. The only exceptions are characters that I made up myself.

**A Summer of Varying News**

George Weasley

It has only been two weeks into the summer, and already Mum is on Fred and my backs. Even for us, that has to be some sort of record. It usually gets her a month to find something or to find out about something to really get her peeved. This time it was our O.W.L.s. We haven't gotten our O.W.L.s yet, so we don't know how bad we did, but Fred and I are pretty certain that we didn't do that stupendous. Meaning, we know we did the worst of the family, which is less than Charlie's 10.

But we're not dimwitted enough to tell dear old Mum and Dad that, no sir. When asked how many O.W.L.s we thought we had accumulated, were said a slight exaggeration of a guess: 8. We know we didn't do horrible, but were sure as hell didn't get 10 and we figured that 8 would be a good alibi guess (Until the markings come out, that is). But Mum any Dad have known us long enough to tell when we aren't being our 100 honest selves. When Mum asked us how well she really thought we did, along with a glare that would make You-Know-Who flinch, we told her what we really guessed.

5.

Between us both.

Well, you can imagine how Mum reacted, and it wasn't with a pat on the back and a reminder to do better next time. No, it was with a confiscation of our brooms for the first month of summer so we could concentrate on our 'important studies'.

So, naturally, we went to our rooms and started reading about transfiguring mice and how to make a love potion, like good little sons/students.

Yeah, right!

"Can you believe her?" Fred said to me as we enter our room, making sure to slam our door as loud as possible "4 weeks without brooms! How are we supposed to stay sane? How can we survive the summer without 2 solid months of beating Ron and Ginny at Quidditch?"

I nodded my head vigorously. "It's not like their was really that high of a hope that we would do well on our O.W.L.s in the first place. It's her fault for thinking we're Percy."

"More like wanting us to be Percy," Fred corrected me, rolling his eyes in disdain.

"Percy got 12 O.W.L.s," I remarked in a voice closely resembling our mothers, while sitting down at my desk. "Percy made prefect. Percy made Head Boy. Percy made it into the Ministry"

"Percy made me throw up," Fred added, placing his hands over his stomach making retching noises, while moving to join me at his own desk.

"Well, if Mum thinks that we are going to waste a month on work instead of play, she doesn't know us as well as she thinks she dose." I nodded to my twin with a devilish smile plastered on my face.

He got his own smile and nodded back.

"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," he knowingly asked me.

"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," I confirmed.

We pulled our wands from our pockets, and with a flick, both of our desks, at the moment covered with a few schoolbooks that act as decoys whenever Mum cleans the room and give the indication that we are actually working, disappear only to be replaced by long scrolls covered with names and prices next to them; some wands separated into very specific piles along the edge of the desk; little candies, some open, some closed with names like Ton-Tongue Toffee written on them; ingredients placed in whisky bottles and test tubes and other items designed to help people who are creating.

"Should we go over what we have that is ready and working properly, correct," I asked Fred?

"Correct." He picked up a checklist lying next to a flask labeled 'Niffler Toes' and a quill. "Fake wand: Underpants?"

"Ready," I answered back, and picked up what looks like a normal wand, but one wave of my wand and it turned into a pair of underpants.

"I believe these are yours," I smirked, lifting the briefs toward my brother with my wand.

"Shut up," he snapped, ripping the garment from me and threw it on top of the bed. He checked off the box on the list marked 'FW: UP'. He had a blush on his forehead that practically fused with his hair, as with happens with all us Weasley's

"Fake wand: Mouse," he continued, trying to sound as if nothing had happened.

"Check." I waved another wand and it turned into a mouse that scurried away.

"Fake wand: Beater."

"Check. But, if you don't mind, dear brother, if I don't try this one out? I still have the bruises from last time."

He looked up at me from the list and smirked. 'Payback for the underpants' I knew he was thinking.

I sighed in defeat and reached over to pick up another wand, looked at Fred who nodded his head hungrily. Just as I was about to give myself a beating in the good name of experimentation, the door to our room swung open.

"Fred, George," Ron gasped! It looked like he had just run up the stairs, while skipping three at a time. "You won't believe it! You just won't believe it! Dad just got home and –" Ron cut off as he looked at what we are doing. He looked at the wand in my hand, the ingredients on our desks, the list still in Fred's hands, and the mouse that use to be a wand gnawing at a piece of bread that was left on the floor.

"You're still doing the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?" he asked, both astonished and worried.

"Yeah, and your nose still is bigger than Dumbledore's," Fred shot back. "You don't see us standing around gawking."

Ron snapped out of his trance at these words. "I'm not gawking," he responded defensively. "I just don't want to be around when Mum finds out."

"Well you can be around all you want, because she won't find." I ended the subject with that. I put down the fake wand and picked up my real one. "That is, she won't find out if you want to live long enough to see the final products," I added on, pointing my wand at Ron.

"Why the bloody hell would I tell Mum," Ron asked, shocked and defensive? "I love Weasley Wizard Wheezes. I wouldn't want Mum and Dad to chuck them."

"Just giving you a fair reminder, that all," Fred told our baby brother. "Now what is it you came bursting in here for? Something about dad, I heard. Did he find out how airplanes fly or some other weird Muggle thing now?"

"No," Ron answered, the annoyance that was on his face from our insinuations that he would pull a Percy or a Hermione and squeal on us disappeared, replaced by one of the biggest smiles I have ever seen him wear. "He got them."

Fred and I looked at him, waiting for more.

"Got what," Fred asked?

"Dad. He just got _them_," was the response our dear brother decided to give, for some reason giving emphasis on the word 'them'.

"Again, got what" Fred repeated, sounding more agitated than before. Not that I could have blamed him. Ron was wasting time that could be used testing our products. Clearly he was like me and not catching on with what Ron was trying to say.

"The tickets. Dad got the tickets."

At once our attitudes changed. A smile exploded onto my face.

"Are you serious," Fred asked, no longer agitated, but excited and energetic. The both of us stood up at once and moved closer to Ron. "Tell me you're serious. You wouldn't dare doing something like this unless it was for real, 'cause you know precisely what would happen." Fred raised his fist menacingly while I just put my wand up against Ron's chest.

There wasn't fear of any kind on Ron's face. One corner of his mouth rose as he pulled something out from his back pocket. Scratch that. Not something. _Something's! _With one in each hand, he placed them in front of our faces. They were too close for to read all of it, but close enough that we could read the most important part.

They were tickets; Tickets to the Quidditch World Cup.

Ginny later told us that she thought one of our experiments went horribly wrong; we were so loud and incomprehensible. I don't even remember what I said. All I remember is what mattered: We were going to the World Cup.

We, as in us, the Weasley's, were going to the Quidditch World Cup. Bulgaria verses Ireland. In the best seats in the entire stadium. Where we would see the Quidditch World Cup. This would include seeing the world's greatest seeker, Viktor Krum.

It was so unbelievable and wonderful at the same time. After we calmed down, Fred and I just sat at our desks, Wizard Wheezes thrust out of our minds, just looking at the tickets.

Then a sharp THUP was heard by my ear. "Argh! What was that for, you git!?" Ron had smacked my head, rather hard. Judging by the way Fred was holding his ear, the same thing had happened to him.

"You were sitting there for nearly two minutes." Ron explained. "I have been trying to get your attention. I thought I should wake you up from La La Land and tell you that Dad wanted to talk to us after I gave you the tickets.

"Right," Fred replied distractedly. Apparently he was still looking at his ticket. "Dad."

"Let's go." I got to my feet and, with ticket still in hand, followed Ron out of our room. The familiar squeak of an old chair told me that Fred had gotten up and was following as well.

On the way downstairs we ran into Percy. He was none too pleased with the way we received our tickets.

"You ruined my letter to Mr. Crouch," he scolded us. "I was just in the middle of telling him that the cauldron reports were half-way completed when your buffoonery made my quill pierce my parchment and slice through it."

"Ah shucks Perce, were sorry. If we had known that we were interrupting something of such life-and-death importance, we would have been quieter" Fred responded, patting our older brother on the back.

"Yes, well, see too it that it never happens again," was all Percy had too say before we reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the kitchen.

"Aye-aye, Mister Weatherby, sir," I mocked saluted him. Percy didn't see the salute, but he had heard the name I called him, which just so happens to be what the all-great-and-powerful Mr. Crouch called him, he never learn his name properly. Percy blushed slightly and sat down next to Ginny and Charlie at the kitchen table without saying anymore.

Ron sat on the other side of Ginny, while Fred and I had taken a seat next too Bill on the other side of the table, who had just arrived the day before from Egypt. He hadn't been in the door for more than 5 minutes before Mum was on him about his ponytail and his dragon fang earrings. (This was, of course after she gushed for about 3 minutes about how great it was to have the entire family under the roof again, for Charlie returned home from Romania 3 days earlier.) She didn't get that the only person who didn't like them besides her was Percy; Ron, Fred and I all said 'Cool' when we first saw him; Ginny kept giggling whenever she saw the earrings; we knew Charlie likes his look 'cause, according to Bill, the ponytail was his idea; Dad only said he thought they were too extreme when Mum gave him one of those infamous glare. We heard him later tell Bill that he really liked the look, and was just playing it up for Mum.

We were in a discussion with Bill about whom we thought was going to win the cup (Bill said Bulgaria, Ireland for us), when Mum and Dad entered the kitchen.

Mum went to sit in her seat at her end of the table, while Dad stood at the head.

"The Weasley's are going to the World Cup," Dad began. "At least most of us will be. Your mother generously stepped down after Ludo Bagman, whom I got the tickets from, said that he could only get us 10."

"But if there are ten tickets, Dad," Bill interrupted, "why can't Mother come?"

"Well, Bill, we were aiming for 11. That way Ron could bring Harry and Hermione with him and all of us could go. But Bagman made it explicitly clear that he could only provide 10. So, as I said, your mother decided to step aside so we could all go with Harry and Hermione can go. That is, if they want to," Dad added, looking to Ron. "They do want to go, right?"

"Oh yes!" Ron laughed back, as if that question was a rather stupid one to ask. "Half of the letters Harry has sent me have asked about the cup. And Hermione said that she would love to go because," he coughed a little and cleared his throat, and when he had spoken next, he spoke with a high feminine voice, clearly trying to imitate Hermione, "_it would be ever so fun, particularly pleasant, and a wonderful experience. Plus we will get a chance to see all of the different wizards from different countries and how they adapt to English customs._" He then looked around to see what we all had thought of his impression.

Mum and Percy were the only ones who didn't smile. Ginny looked like she was trying not to bust a gut. Even Bill and Charlie, who hadn't met Hermione, chuckled. They were undoubtedly told by Ron and Ginny how smart and bossy she was. Fred and I, on the other hand, both sniggered and gave each other sly glances, partly because of the impression, but mostly we were thinking of the look on Ron's face when Hermione would confront him after we told her, I mean, let it slip to her, about said impression.

Even Dad couldn't keep a chuckle out of his voice when he spoke next. "Excellent Ron. I expect you to send them an owl after were done her telling them that we have the tickets, and we will be picking them up sometime in the next week." Ron nodded and continued to listen. "Now, speaking of Harry, Molly, I believe that you wanted to say something about our friend?"

Mum got up at her end while Dad took a seat at his.

"Thank you Arthur, dear." Mum nodded her thanks to Dad. "Now," she started looking around the table, "Bill and Charlie, this first bit is for you."

My two eldest siblings looked at each other rather worried. 'What does she need to tell us?' they obviously asked themselves. 'We haven't even met Harry.'

That was apparently Mum's point as she continued "The two of you are the only ones who haven't met Harry. There for I have to ask you not to ask him anything he might find uncomfortable, such as if he can show you his scar, and whether or not he remembers You-Know-Who or anything about that terrible night. I know that you to know better, and the thought to ask won't even cross your minds," she quickly added, seeing that Charlie was about to protest on both of their behalves. "I just want to make sure that you know to resist the urge if the thought comes up. Because I know that too those that haven't met him yet, he is still the Boy-Who-Lived and not just Harry like he is to his friends.

"On another note about Harry, and this goes to all of you, except Ron, who was their," she looked around the room, making sure to meet the eyes of all of us children, even Ron, when she mentioned him. "I don't want any of you to be asking Harry about what happened the night he met Sirius Black." I had thought I saw a flicker of something in Ron's eyes as Mum said this. Was it unease? But I brushed it off as I returned my attention back to Mum. "It was only a few weeks ago, and it was in the _Daily Prophet_ that he had a confrontation with him on school grounds, a confrontation which he nearly died from, may I remind you." Mum paused for a few seconds. Apparently the thought of Harry dying was almost as bad as the thought that Ginny might have died back in our 4th year. She pulled herself together again and continued. "I don't want him to be reminded of what it was like to meet that madman," Ron had that flicker in his eyes again, "any more than I want him to be reminded of You-Know-Who.

"The fact that Black got away just when he was caught, I'm sure, made it even worse," my Dad added. Mom nodded in agreement, but I set myself to look at Ron this time. He didn't have a flicker in his eyes this time around, but his mouth did seem to curl in the corner. He noticed that I was watching him. His mouth went back to a frown and gave me a 'What-Are-You-Looking-At' face.

"Nobody here would mention any of those things," Ginny said, looking around at the family, looking for support. I saw that every one agreed whole heartedly. The last thing we wanted before the World Cup was for Harry to go into the depression mode that he seemed to in a lot of the time last year. "We all care too much about him to remind him of horrible stuff like that."

"I know Ginny dear, I know," Mum reassured Ginny. "I realize that no one here would ever intentionally hurt Harry. I just wanted to remind you all.

"Now, there is one last thing I want to say about Harry. Don't worry Ron. Ginny," Mum starts, when she sees the two try to interrupt. "This is about how we will be picking him up. It would be rude to just arrive at his Aunt and Uncle's house uninvited."

Ron, Fred, and I exchange looks. Knowing Mum as well as we do, we knew where this was going.

"Therefore, I think that we should send them some sort a letter explaining that we are coming to take him and that he will be staying with us for the rest of summer, and not to worry."

"Mum, no," Ron intervened. "That would be a horrible idea."

"Seriously Mum, Ron's right. We went to the Dursley's once, remember," Fred continued off of Ron's statement.

"There were bars on his windows!" I reminded Mum.

"They _hate_ wizards. If we show up on their doorsteps, invitation or no invitation, they will not be very happy," Ron continued, desperate for Mum to understand.

"I am very aware of all this, boys," Mum told us, rather stern for some reason. "That's why I wish to send them a letter so that they will be expecting us and they won't get angry with Harry."

"Like they aren't already mad at him for existing," Ginny said in a rather dangerous way under her breath, but in a way that indicates that she wasn't trying to keep it to herself.

"Now," Mum continued as if Ginny hadn't said anything, "that's really all I wanted to say. Arthur, is their anything else that you wanted to say?"

"No," Dad thought about it for a second. "No, I think that is all. You all can go."

The family dispersed, going to their different parts of the house. Percy and Ron headed back upstairs; Percy was undoubtedly going to go fix his letter while Ron was probably going to write to Harry and Hermione; Mum went into the kitchen to start up dinner; Bill went to help her; Dad picked up the latest _Daily Prophet_ and went to go read it in the family room; Charlie said that he was going to go for a walk around the property; Ginny, Fred and I were the only ones who hadn't gotten up yet. Our sister was clearly too lost in thought, and didn't seem to notice that the rest of the family had left.

She just wasn't thinking about any little old thing either. The look on her face was one that we have seen on her face for the past 3 years. She got this look whenever she went into deep thought about a certain legendary friend of ours. And that slight frown on the corner of her lips told us that it was a rather unpleasant mental discussion.

As Fred and I got up from the table, I nudged Fred in the ribs and pointed at our little sister. He raised his eyebrows at me, clearly pondering what I was pondering. I smirked and jerked my head in Ginny's direction.

Taking the lead, Fred said, "What ya thinking, Gin?"

The sound of her name snapped Ginny out of her thought cloud she was flying through. She whipped her head up at the both of us and said, "What? What are you talking about? I wasn't thinking about anything" in a voice that told that she had, in fact, been thinking about something that she was slightly embarrassed about.

"Well, you looked like you had a hippogriff sitting on your mind with the way you hadn't noticed everyone leave," I pointed out to her.

"And you didn't even look up when I called your name the first 3 times," Fred convincingly lied.

"Well, I… uh…," she looked at us with a mixture of defeat and resentment. "Well so what if I was thinking? Am I not aloud to think or something?" she snapped at us accusingly!

"Not at all, sister dear," I reassured her while Fred went over a put his hands on his shoulders. "We just want what's best for you. That's all."

"And thinking about certain boys and how you would like to put his repugnant excuse for a family on the receiving end of one of your fabled Bat-Bogey Hexes isn't anywhere near the best for you," I added.

"Although it's not a bad thought," Fred said thoughtfully, as if he was going to go out and curse those evil gits himself.

"I just can't help it," Ginny sighed, with a look of shame upon her face. "Those damn Dursley's just make me so mad. I wish there was some way I could get them back for what they have done too Harry his whole life. He hasn't done anything but exist, and they treat him as if he was some kind of monster or a disease. It makes me so mad!"

Fred and I shared another one of those twin looks that everyone talked about. We are probably the only ones in the family that knows that Ginny's feelings for Harry aren't just some girlish crush, or some form of hero-worship for what he did for her in her 1st year. She cares for him, in a real and serious way. Most people, including the rest of the family, think that Ginny is too young to be thinking about things like that; Fred and I know different. We know that Ginny's experience with Riddle and his diary aged her in ways other people her age should never have to age. She grew up drastically, maturity and emotionally wise, so she knows and can handle her emotions better than a lot of people in school can. So, while we tease her relentlessly about a lot of things, and people don't take us seriously on a lot of subjects (Rightfully so, if I do say so myself), Fred and I are dead serious when it comes to Ginny and her happiness. We probably look after and protect her most out of all our siblings. (If you couldn't tell, almost losing Ginny really made us grow up, at least in dealings with our sister).

So, when things that she takes deadly serious like the Dursley's treatment of Harry start to get her down and bummed, their is only one thing we can do: Do something about it, and fast.

"Hey, Ginny," I cupped her chin and made her look at me, all joking and teasing was aside and actually trying to be the brother Mum wanted us to be, "listen to me. Fred and I will give those bigot Muggle's a real reason to fear wizards for how they treat Harry. Believe me. We will make them sorry. I promise."

"Are you serious, or are you just teasing me again?" Ginny accused me, but sort of looked like she partly believed me behind those brown eyes.

"Hey," Fred chipped in, "when have we ever broken a promise to make mischief? Don't you fret, little sis, we will get it done. Trust us." He winked at her.

Ginny beamed at us. Then she did something to us that she only did the first time we saw her after Harry saved her from Riddle and the Chamber of Secrets; she got up from her chair and wrapped her arms around my waist. She gave my waist a squeeze in thanks, than kissed my cheek. She let go and did the same thing to Fred.

Now we are the ones who were blushing up to our hair. Ginny lets go of Fred and we could see that she was as well.

"Thanks guys," she said. And saying nothing more, she ran upstairs.

The both of us just stood there until we heard her door slam shut (She wasn't angry, but the doors close really hard in the Burrow). I finally said "What are brothers for". It just felt like the right thing to say, even if Ginny couldn't hear us.

Fred and I gave each other a look that showed that we are both thinking the same thing:

'We'd better come up with something _really_ good.'

End Chapter One

Chapter Two: Hermione Jane Granger


	2. Owls, Emotions, and Family

**P.O.V.**

Goblet of Fire

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I would have said so. So since I am not, I won't.

**Summary:** The story of Harry Potter from GoF through HBP told from other characters perspectives. I will go through many characters, some I will stay with more than others, for obvious reasons. Each chapter will, most of the time, be seen by only one character, but their will be chapters where their will be multiple perspectives, seeing the same situation and having different reactions, but those will be occasions of massive importance to the series.

Most of the time I will stay with good guys, but occasionally I slip to the dark side of the Wizarding World.

All parings are as they are in the books. The only exceptions are characters that I made up myself.

Owls, Emotions, and Family

Hermione Jane Granger

'This is such a waste of time.'

The entire time I sat at our kitchen table, those seven words floated through my mind. It was my Aunt Ruthie's 50th birthday, and mother decided that she would hold the celebration. This meant that I couldn't stay home with the strong regret of not being able to come to one of my other relative's house and work, which is what I would have done in those situations.

Even with the party being held here, I had hoped that I would be able to get some studying in when ever possible, but, unfortunately, that wasn't a possibility, for my aunt's and uncle's would always insist on me staying down with them.

Did they not know that I still had 2 rolls of parchment to write on the centaur revolutions of 1547? Did they not realize that I had to have read all 949 pages of _Pins to Pyramid's, A History of Transfiguration _with a fully summarized explanation triple-checked and ready into hand to Professor McGonagall on our first day back? I am only on page 673 for crying out loud.

Well, I guess I was being a _tad_ unfair to my family, seeing as how my parents are the only people in my family who know that I am a witch, so of course they don't know that they are keeping me from my work, but it is still frustrating.

No, I had to be the good, responsible little niece and cousin and interact with the family. For the slightest moment, I wished I had Harry's family, so that nobody would care if I was making small talk and being polite, but I quickly changed my mind. Harry has told me how much he hates his family and how much they hate him back. And it is a rather obvious hatred, from how much I've seen of the Dursley's when they pick him up at the end of each year. Thinking of the Dursley's made me thankful for my family, no matter how much I wished to be upstairs at the moment.

At the moment, it was dinner time. My mother and father were at their respective ends of the table; on the side opposite my sat my 15-year-old cousin Dennis, his father Ralph, my Aunt Ruthie, Aunt Gertrude and her daughter, the 18-year-old Violet. I was sitting in the middle on my side of the table; too my left was my grandfather Haven and my Uncle Neville (Not a thing like or to do with Neville Longbottom); on my right was my grandmother Marie and Aunt Margret, or Maggie, as she wished to be called.

The family was locked in separate conversations about subjects that I didn't really care about. I was still wishing I could be upstairs. But mother and father persisted that I be here. They figure that I have been doing too much homework and not enough relaxation. Just because I usually spend 6 hours a day on work doesn't mean that I do too much!

'Come on, Hermione,' I urged myself 'this isn't torture or anything. This is you just spending quality time with the family you never see. You spend three quarters of the year in school, the least you can do is talk to your family'

But something disrupted me from my thoughts of school … well, kind of.

"So Hermione," Uncle Ralph said, looking in my direction, "when do we get to hear anything about your school life?"

"My school life?" This is bad. I exchange looks with my Mother and she has the same worry in her eyes. I can't tell them about my school. The reason we haven't told the rest of the family about the wizarding world was for the obvious reason: they would never believe it unless I gave them proof. And wizarding law prohibits me from showing them any kind of proof that they would bye.

By then, no doubt because of my lack of answer, all eyes were on me as I searched for an answer. Well, it was obvious what I had to do: Tell the truth. Or, at least, tell some parts of the truth and leave the rest out.

"School is going really swell." I began. "I am doing really well. In fact, some people call me the best in our year."

"Do they, now," grandmother asked, looking rather proud at my words.

"Yes, they do." Sweat was starting to form on my brow. I just hated having to lie to my family like that, but it had to be done.

"Nobody teases you, do they?" Aunt Ruthie asked. "Why, I remember your mother telling me how much those mean little children would make fun of you at your old school. They don't do that now, do they? Those little private school kids?"

"Well," Father interrupted, "it will always be the curse of the smart that they will be shunned by some, less gifted children students. Yes, there are some students that harass Hermione for her brains," I thought of the Slytherin's, or, more specifically, Draco Malfoy and his cronies, "but our Hermy doesn't listen to them, do you sweetheart."

"No, father, I don't. I have too much to worry about without those immature brats hounding me."

"Ata girl," grandfather complimented. "Don't let those blighters feel sorry for your gifts. They can worry about their own problems."

"What classes are you taking, Hermione," Violet asked.

I silently cursed Violet then. Violet is one of my favorite cousins and for her to have asked that question made me wish she wasn't their. It was okay for me to leave some parts of the truth out, but I couldn't say any Muggle classes without it being a bold faced lie. What was I to do?

Luckily, I am a fast thinker.

"You know, Vi, the usual classes: Literature, history and such."

My cousin seemed to bye this, and she dropped the subject; I released my breath. Literature and history are obvious cover up ways of saying Ancient Runes and History of Magic, but my family would never know that, so they would never figure it out.

I was almost home free with discussions about school until after dessert.

We had just sung 'Happy Birthday' too Aunt Ruthie and my mother had just begun cutting the cake, when Dennis stood up and pointed to the window.

"Everyone, look! Out the window! There are owls sitting out there!"

The bottom might as well have dropped out of my stomach. I looked with the rest of my family and, sure enough, Dennis was right: Perched on the window sill were two owls. One was what I recognized to be an owl Hogwarts used to deliver important letters and the other was one I had only seen once, but recognized. He was the owl Sirius Black had given Ron at the end of last term and he couldn't sit still. He was fidgeting, ruffling his feathers, and looking all around him. The Hogwarts looked insulted that he had to be perched next to the ball of feathered energy.

Uncle Neville went to the window immediately, before I had a chance to even move my chair back.

He had rapped on the window and shouted "Go away!"

The Hogwarts owl, which had been trained by the best on how to react, didn't even blink. Ron's owl, on the other hand, had jumped in the air and began flying in circles, but to his credit, didn't fly off.

I hurried to Uncle Neville's side. "Here, let me try." Without waiting for a response, I opened the window wide. Both owls flew in at once. The Hogwarts owl landed at the spot at the table where I had been sitting and waited me to come over. Ron's owl however zoomed around overhead.

"What it the meaning of this," Aunt Maggie exclaimed? "Why are their owls here?"

"Why did you let them in, Hermione?" Mother asked me rather peeved. I looked at her, hurt, until I saw in her eyes that she was just acting for the rest of the family.

"Well," I had so shout, because Ron's owl started hooting quiet loudly, "I thought I would be able to push them away! But they were too fast!"

"I'll say they were fast," grandfather said, joining the rest of the family in looking at Ron's owl, which was still flying in circles on the ceiling.

That had actually been a blessing for me, who was able to get the letter from the owl that was still on the table without anyone watching and pocketed it. Once I was sure that nobody had seen me, I picked the owl up and brought it to the window.

"Now get," I mentally said sorry to the bird as I threw it out the window, hoping it would understand why I was being so rude and why I didn't give it something to eat or drink.

I watched it fly away for a few seconds, than turned to join the family in watching the hyper little creature zipping around on the ceiling. Only they weren't all watching: my father had fetched a broom from the kitchen and was now standing on a chair, batting at him.

"Father!" I exclaimed horrified. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to get this blasted bird out of my house, Hermione," he responded without looking at me. He was still waving the broom, hoping to knock the bird out of the sky.

I couldn't believe it. Father had never acted this way when it came to owls. When I am home on vacation's they are a common sight. So why was he trying to beat this one with a broomstick?

"Gotchya," Father shouted in triumph as he finally managed to hit the owl hard enough to knock it down. "Bloody pigeon, flying in here and ruining our dinner like that," he grumbled as he hopped down from the chair. Mother was now holding the bird in her hands. "It's lucky I don't just cook him up and save him for Christmas."

I was now looking away from father, disgusted in his behavior. How could he say such things?

"Now, now, calm down Richard," Aunt Ruthie said, patting father on the back. "You can't get angry at the poor thing. He's just trying to live" She walked over to mother and held out her hand. "Now, Meredith, let's set the poor dear free, alright? He has had a rough night and I am sure his family misses him."

Mother looked rather hesitant, but relented and let the owl go to my aunt's hands. For a brief second, it looked like Mother put her hand in her pocket, but I must have imagined it, for both her hands were out in the open the next.

"Their, their little fella," my aunt crooned. "Aunt Ruthie's got you. Everything will be alright." Aunt Ruthie went over to the still open window and Uncle Ralph said, "Ya know, the little guy is kind of cute when he's not moving like the devil's chasing him."

"You know I think you're right," Violet added.

"Well, I think it's time to say good-bye to our party crasher," said Aunt Ruthie. She stretched her arm over the window sill, petted the owl on the head, which cooed in thanks, and threw the owl in the air. Within a few seconds, the owl was gone, vanished in with the night.

"Now that was a party," Grandfather said.

Everyone all smiled, although mine was the most subdued; I was still disturbed over how my father acted and, on top of that, I didn't get Ron's letter.

When everyone had left, I aided my parents in cleaning the house. I was anxious the entire time, not only for the fact that I was still uncomfortable with what my father did, but for the letter that resided in my pocket.

I knew very well what it was, having received other such letter's from Hogwarts this time of summer two summers ago: it was my exam results.

My worry over my father was diminished for the moment as I begun to fret over my grades. Harry and Ron would scoff and say how there was no way I could possibly fail any of my courses, but I still worried. I was particularly scared for my Defense Against the Dark Arts grade: My boggart had succeeded in scaring me so much that I couldn't begin to defend myself against it.

I sat in our living room, my hands trembled as I peeled open the envelope and slid the papers from their parchment case. There were two papers, but my focus was on the one on top.

Looks like Harry and Ron were correct and I worried for nothing: I passed all my subjects, and I received all perfect scores in all but Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Not bad" I told myself, looking at the 95 that was my only low grade. I pictured Harry and Ron's reactions. Well, I more pictured Ron's reaction, for I highly doubted Harry would have done anything more than snigger or roll his eyes.

"You're disappointed, aren't you?" he would say. "Here I am satisfied with my 75 and 85's and you are over here crying about one lousy 95 out of a 100."

It hurt knowing that this or some variation of this would be his reaction, but I brushed it off; Ron was always rather blunt when it came to comparing our academic achievements. I knew very well that he hadn't received any 100's, and that the best he did in any class was 90. I also knew that while he didn't fail any classes, he would still be spiteful of his lower scores. He would probably have gotten mad at Harry, for as well as I knew how Ron did, I also know how well Harry did.

Harry will have done better than Ron, but worse than me in all subjects but Defense Against the Dark Arts, for he is probably the best in our year at the subject.

Well, that wasn't Harry or my fault, so I really shouldn't feel guilty. So than why do I? Ron is a smart boy, but he just gets distracted by Quidditch, his hatred for Snape, and his tendency to rely on me instead of doing work himself really hurts him come exam time.

My thoughts on how silly boys are were interrupted by my father entering the room. He looked at the papers in my hands and said "Exam results."

I just nodded and held them up. "Perfect scores in all but one," I said.

"That's our little Hermy," Mother said, entering the room and sitting down next to me. Father was still looking at my results, a rather large grin on his face.

"Well done, dear," Father beamed. "I'd say that I couldn't be prouder, but I have a feeling that I would be proven wrong next year."

I avoided his gaze.

Mother noticed this and said "What's wrong, dear?"

I knew it would be stupid to lie, so I told them: how shocked I was to see them treat Ron's owl like they did; how angry I was at them; how hurt I was at the way they just threw the bird out without making sure it was alright; how upset I was that I didn't get Ron's letter.

Not once did I raise my voice at them, for I was raised by them better, and no matter how angry I was at them, I would never be able to yell at my parents. They did let me, however, let me get my complaints off my chest without stopping me once.

When I was done I looked at my Father. I expected him to have a look of shame or embarrassment or any recognition that he was sorry for the way he acted. Instead, I was surprised to see that he was smiling just as widely as he was when he was reading my exam results, all of his perfectly white teeth shinning at me.

"Why Hermione," he began, still smiling, "I would have thought that someone who gets perfect scores in 10 out of 11 classes would have been able to figure out why your mother and I behaved the way we did."

I stared at him rather confused. Mother wrapped her arms around me, chuckling and said, "We had to react the way we did to keep your secret from the rest of the family."

"If we acted like owls entering out house and giving us letters was an everyday event, it would have been mighty suspicious," Father continued. "So your Mother and I did what we thought was best for you."

Needless to say, I felt deeply embarrassed. I couldn't look at them. I just looked at the floor, my face burning red.

"Don't worry, dear," Mom said. "We expected this reaction from you. We're just glad we got this discussion out now before it got too far."

"Yes, we didn't want you to not talk to us for a few days," Father added.

"But what about –"

"Your letter," Mom continued for me?

"Yes. Did you take it?"

"Yes. I did." With that, she put her hand into her pocket and took out a letter that had my name written on it with handwriting that was clearly Ronald's.

"Thank you," I was still blushing as I took the letter in my hands. Now that I thought about it, I felt like I was the stupidest person in Hogwarts. Of course my parents were defending me. How could I think otherwise?

"Hermione," my Mother interrupted me, "Aren't you going to open your letter?"

Wanting to forget about this whole situation, I opened the envelope and slid out the piece of parchment with Ron's writing on it:

**Hermione,**

**Dad got the tickets!!**

**He got the tickets to the Quidditch World Cup. It's in a few days. Bulgaria vs. Ireland. There are even two extra tickets for you and Harry. I know that you want to come, so no matter what you may say to the contrary you will come, even if I have to drag you by the ears, for this is too massive of an experience too pass up.**

**As for Harry, we are going to pick him up, Muggles or no Muggles. But Mum has it in her mind that we need to be polite and ask their permission for Harry to come, as if those – **"Ronald!" I gasped, for he had used a rather foul word that I knew he wouldn't have dared to use in front of me or his mother (even if it was a fair if not right enough way to describe Harry's vile excuse for a family) – **wouldn't know polite if it flew around on Buckbeak in front of them. **

**Anyways, all that really matters is that you, I, Harry and my family will be at the Quidditch World Cup in a few days. We will come and get you in two days.**

**Till then,**

**Ron**

**P.S. – **

**Percy made it into the Ministry of Magic. I am sure that you will have a lot to talk with him about.**

Wow. That was all I could say. The Quidditch World Cup. Even for some one like me, who is very fond of Quidditch and enjoys it, but doesn't really see the big fuss (And I am probably the only student in Gryffindor who feels this way), the chance to go to the World Cup is just too big of an opportunity to pass up, as Ron said.

"Hermione," Father interrupted, snapping me out of my trance. It seemed that I was lost in the letter and had been quiet for too long of a time. "What does it say?"

"Oh! It's just Ron saying that got tickets to the Quidditch World Cup and that I am invited," I explained. "He promised me that if he got the tickets that I could come. And he did, so he asked me. The Weasley's are coming to pick me up in two days."

"They are, are they?" Mother asked.

"Yes, they are," I responded. "We discussed this earlier in the summer. You said I could go! Are you changing your minds?" I accused.

"Of course not, Hermione," Mother answered. "We just think that it is rather rude of them to just announce they are coming without any real warning."

"It is rather sudden, I will admit, but we I told you that they would do this when I brought the match up a few weeks ago." By now I was trying to stop them from finding even the slightest reason to doubt my going to the match. I knew that they wouldn't stop me, but I wasn't going to take any chances. "Please Mother, please Father. This is a one in a life time chance here. I really, truly, strongly wish to go."

Mother and Father looked at each other. They seemed to be having a mental conversation. They were getting across all of the many reasons why I can go and why I shouldn't be allowed to go. The big factor in the reason for me not going, wouldn't be anything like the Weasley's rudeness, or anything like that: it is that I would be gone three weeks earlier than usual.

My parents so rarely see me during the year, only on Christmas and summer holidays. Now, my visit is going to be cut down even more, it really hurts them. And me as well, if I will be entirely honest with myself.

I locked eyes with Father and looked back at me.

"Of course you can go. What kind of parents would we be if we said no?"

I was beaming. I jumped into Fathers arms and wrapped my arms around him. "Thank you, thank you, and thank you! You are the greatest parents in the world!" I let him go and moved to Mother and repeated what I did with Father with Mother.

"You won't regret this. You really won't." I let her go and ran to the hallway, still smiling as if I had just gotten hit with a high powered Cheering Charm. "I am going upstairs to pack and answer Ron! Good night."

"Good night Hermione," Father said as I ran upstairs.

As I was walking up the stairs, I realized I had a problem: I don't have an owl to send Ron. But that problem was solved when I reached my room. As I entered the room, I instantly saw Ron's owl sitting on my perch. It seemed to have been waiting for me.

I opened the window to let him in.

"You're a smart owl, aren't you? Coming up here to wait for me?" the owl just cooed at me, and began flying all around the room, just like he did downstairs. I wrote a quick letter to Ron, telling him that I could come, and that two days was fine.

I gave the letter to the owl, and I was watching him fly away when it hit me: I am going to live with Ron, in his house, for many weeks! Why didn't I think of that before?

'Well, that is just going to have to be my sacrifice for some fun at the Cup,' I thought. I seemed to have been thinking of Ron a lot, those past few weeks. It was really frustrating!

I cast Ron out of my mind as I got prepared for bed. I didn't want Ron to be in my thoughts when I was changing my knickers, right?

As I lay in bed, I could here Mother and Father moving around downstairs, talking in muffled voices through the floor board. I don't like hurting them; I love them to death and never wish to do so. I know that me leaving is hurtful, but I really want to go to the Cup.

'This is all so complicated,' I thought as I drifted off to sleep. 'There is so much pressure on me to do what is right for people's feelings. I hate being under pressure.'

End Chapter Two

Chapter Three: Ginevra Molly Weasley


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